


Beautiful Girl

by AeeDee



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Bullying, Depression, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Secrets, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/yj_anon_meme/">YJ anon meme</a> prompt, asking to see a "male" character that was secretly MTF.  With emphasis, a "boy" who wishes to present as female and struggles with it.  I wanted a challenge I don't see very often, so I chose Wally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Girl

**Author's Note:**

> A few things: I took a very significant creative liberty with a prominent character that's not Wally (I apologize in advance if that bothers anyone). For dramatic purposes, I'm operating without bringing Wally's superspeed healing into this canon. Dick/Wally is an implied pairing, but it's not present in the events or endgame. Lastly, this fic includes potentially not worksafe references to body parts, but no mature content.
> 
> This is a personal subject for me, so I did the best I could. Please check the tags for potential TW's.

“Wallace?” the stern woman asks, tapping the desk with her pencil.

“Here,” a voice from across the room, and in a quiet murmur, “Wally.”

“ _Wally_ ,” the woman parrots back, some annoyance in her voice, “I’m glad you could join us today.”

“Sorry,” a shrug of the shoulders, “Had a rough day yesterday.”

-

And by _rough day_ , Wally means a rough morning. An awful, awful morning. The kind of morning that just makes you want to crawl back in bed, and mourn your existence until the feeling passes.

It was one of the low ones; really low. And for almost no reason whatsoever. That was the unfortunate part. Those moments never had valid reasons, they just materialized and hit _hard_. Waking up would happen just fine, and all it took was just the right, exact thought, and standing in front of the mirror to change clothes became something difficult. Putting on clothes became something exhausting.

Wally didn’t know what to think. Just that when she woke up, she was awake and alive, and the sun was coming in at just the right angle, and her body felt rested, and ready for anything.

…except the sight of herself.

The smooth, flat chest; she runs a hand across it in awe, with a kind of disappointed fascination. Sometimes she thinks, _One day, I’ll wake up and it won’t be so bad._ She likes her skin; it’s soft. She doesn’t even hate the freckles; it adds character, and a uniqueness. But… _One day, I’ll wake up, and I won’t mind this so much. I’ll learn to like it._

But she never does.

This smooth, flat chest; the lack of shape, the lack of curvature in her broad waist. The prominent, muscular shoulders. The suggestion of an Adam’s apple. Sometimes she likes to take on certain poses, leaning back a little, rotating her arms to the side, turning her legs at a different angle; she tries to take on poses that add curves where they don’t exist, round shapes that are non-existent, and a delicate _smallness_ that she hasn’t seen in herself for years.

When she was young, she was still frail and delicate. She didn’t feel _this_ back then. Because she never woke up and wanted to throw up at the sight of her naked chest, of her naked legs, stiff and awkward, of her bare genitals, prominent and disgusting. When she was young, she only felt this uncomfortable at doctor’s visits, or the occasional trip inside a Men’s restroom. She’d always been an odd child, but she was never a _freak_.

And now, even if it was only to herself and in her own mind, she was _bizarre_. She was wrong. She was increasingly ugly and horrid and wrong every single time she had to look at herself.

_What is wrong with my body, what is wrong with my face-_

Sometimes it gets to her. Sometimes she wakes up, and vomits, and still feels ill for a while. Sometimes she just crawls into bed and cries herself back to sleep. Sometimes.

So yesterday was a morning like that.

Today is… okay.

She hasn’t made any significant mistakes. When she woke up this morning, she closed her blinds and covered her mirror. She’s alright.

-

When Wally first discovered magic markers, or rather, discovered how much she loved them, she painted her fingernails with them. She chose a magenta one, because it spoke to her. She never tells anyone anymore, but it’s actually her favorite color. She only pretends to like red as much, even though it’s a close second. She likes magenta and violet and soft pink; all of its similar shades. Red just happens to be in that family.

So she took the magenta marker, and hummed to herself as she absent-mindedly colored in her nails. She was being stared at, but she didn’t notice at the time. She was lost inside her own world.

And when she looked up to see a classmate standing above her, the first words out of his mouth were, “How pretty.”

Her favorite word. For a moment her heart jumps up, and she starts to respond, “Than-”

As the boy cuts her off, “Should I put on your lipstick for you?”

And behind him, a few others start to snicker.

Wally manages, “Shut up,” with an eye roll to make herself look calm. _I’m not bothered by someone as stupid as this._ She even finishes up the last finger, filling in along the edge as the kid just shakes his head, and murmurs off a, “Stupid fag.”

 _I’m not bothered by someone as stupid as this._ Even as she feels her throat tense up, and her chest starting to ache.

_I’m not-_

She puts the cap back onto the marker, and sets it back down onto her desk. She’d finished the assignment, anyway; so she doesn’t touch it again.

-

“Hello, gorgeous,” she was leaning against the wall, grinning at Megan.

“Hi, Wally,” she nervously responds, and shuffles away.

A few feet away, Dick is trying not to laugh; “Smooth.”

“Smooth operator,” Wally corrects him, and says smugly, “She’ll be back.”

“Maybe you’re trying a little too hard,” Dick cautions.

“You think?” Wally pauses.

“Well I-” he seems surprised. “Wait, you’re taking me _seriously?_ ”

Wally stops. _Oops_. “Not really,” with a new grin plastered on her face.

“Pfft,” Dick laughs a little, mostly from amusement. “Godspeed, buddy.”

Wally keeps that grin up for a few seconds longer, before letting it fade naturally.

Dick is a good guy; a good friend, full of support. But Wally knows something he doesn’t.

Wally is never going to get the girl. She’s falling fast for Kon, and that’s okay. Wally is going to let her go. Because Wally doesn’t want the girl. Wally doesn’t want any girl. She isn’t a lesbian.

Wally is straight; very straight. So straight, that she’d once considered kissing Dick, when he was asleep. So straight, that even _she_ had checked out Kon’s ass before. So straight, that when Roy showed up in that hot new Red Arrow costume, she wanted to put her hands all over him.

But the closest rumor that’s floating around is that she’s _gay_. No; not at all. She sees hints of that in Artemis and sees nothing wrong with being that way, but her? No. She loves men, she loves every single thing about their bodies-

She just wishes she didn’t have one of them.

When Wally flirts with Megan, she knows what she’s doing. She’s playing the game. Because a ladies’ man is a more reasonable identity to keep up than a genderbent freak. She’d rather be a horny male than a damaged goods female. Because everyone loves boys like that. Good old boys, with good old normal sex drives and confident egos and plenty of smiles to go around.

She was able to bond with Dick, when she acted that way; he liked her as a boy. And when she started crushing on him, she became too scared to break the illusion. Because even though she knew Dick was interested in dating females, she also knew that Dick would only bond _this_ closely with another boy. He viewed girls as either romantic objects, or acquaintances he would keep at a distance. So to remain close to him, she shut out the possibility of dating him. She let it die.

And even as she mourned the slow death of her crush, and suffered through the slow murder on her sparks of hope, she found joy in their friendship. Every time he smiled or laughed with her, she wanted that feeling to never go away. As a boy, she made him happy. As a boy, she was his companion for _life_.

And when she thought of it that way, she felt okay. She was alright.

But then Roy came back around. This time as Red Arrow.

And her dormant sex drive, which she’d nicely filed away deep inside her mind, started to fire up again.

She hadn’t ever known what it felt like, to be struck with someone at first sight before. And now she did. So she’s gasping for air, maintaining that frozen look on her face, trying to act like she’s anything but _bothered_ by his terrible mood, and the entire Artemis situation, and-

She doesn’t hate Artemis, actually. But she hates the way _they_ made Roy feel. Her and Green Arrow, disrespecting him like they had any right. Like they’d earned it. And the nerve they had, to act surprised when Roy was offended, when Roy was angry, and-

When Roy left, Wally wanted to chase him. But she stood still; frozen there with everyone else, she watched him leave.

She wanted to follow him; touch him, hold him, kiss him. Pure lust, fueled with sympathy and a sudden sense of belonging, like that man right there, dressed like that, behaving like that, with _that_ look on his face, was made for her.

But she knew that was ridiculous. Roy, like everyone else she knew, seemed to be a pretty strict ladies man. And her stubborn insistence on behaving like a boy around Dick had closed that door. Because in his mind, Wally was likely on the exact same level as Dick.

 _I’d let you fuck me._ That was the thought that kept her awake at night.

But even the thought of actual, physical sex was disgusting. She didn’t have a proper entrance. She didn’t have breasts to hold. She had a face he wouldn’t want to kiss. She had a body he’d find dull and bulky and awkward. She had extra parts down there, parts he’d find as ugly and disgusting as she did.

There was no actual reason for why Roy would ever want to sleep with her.

Like Dick, he would have to be written off. That door was closed before it could even open. And this too would pass in time.

_Eventually, it won’t hurt anymore._

-

Wally had never worn girls’ panties before. Or stockings, or nylons, or anything like that. She’d never even owned a bra, purchased or stolen. Because every time she imagined herself wearing a single garment like that, the thought of how terribly it’d fit, and how ridiculous it’d look, would make her banish the idea as far away as she could.

But sometimes she was tempted; sometimes. She just wanted to know what it felt like, even if she knew it would seem ridiculous on sight. She just had to make sure not to let anyone see.

So when she finally came across a pair of silk panties that had small magenta dots on them, and red thread, she thought, _What harm would this do_ , and discreetly slipped it into her basket, buried beneath a few boxer briefs and white undershirt tees.

The checkout counter made her nervous. The sales associate noticed, but she didn’t comment. She just gave an slightly confused look, and Wally gave her a small, almost embarrassed smile. Thankfully, neither of them said a word, and she was able to go home with some of her dignity still intact. Her hands were sweaty, her face was on fire and her neck was tense, but she wasn’t humiliated. That was a nice step forward.

And the first day she wore them, no one noticed. There was a surprising reassurance in that, even if it felt strange to have to be concerned throughout the day. Because even if they showed a little above the edge of her jeans, the thread was _really_ bright red and the dots were bold and-

But no one noticed. Thank God.

And when she went home, and took them off before taking a shower, she was sure to quickly toss them into the laundry bin. She’d normally toss old clothes onto the floor, but that was too big a chance to take. So in the bin, they’d be safe.

Until she woke up the next morning, and heard the washing machine running. A slow hum noise through the walls, and as soon as her brain turned itself up to full speed, she could feel the slow crawl of terror. First it appeared in her hands, as they started to shake; and then in her mouth, when she bit down onto her lips and made them bleed.

But when she arrived at the breakfast table, her mother said nothing to her. Nothing unusual.

That woman; she waited until Wally was almost out of the door.

“Hurry home today sweetie. We need to talk before your father gets home.”

_Oh._

And Wally endured a slow and painful day at school, dread slowly sinking in. Dread and a slow-building fear, for the _talk_ waiting when she got home. Was her mother going to be confused, or was she going to insist on something more harsh…

What if she insulted her. What if she told her she had failed again. And reminded her of all the ways they resented her, and all the ways they could make her regret ever falling short of their expectations-

Wally didn’t know what to do. She was on the verge of nausea again, and she spent most of her school day curled up in her chair, trying to vanish from her own life.

And when she arrived home with heavy feet, the inevitable talk went as follows:

“Honey, I can appreciate your wanting to try something different. But this is just unusual. People might see these, and get the wrong idea.”

_Or the right one._

“So let’s just forget about these, okay?”

But Wally couldn’t.

And over the next week or so, every time she opened her drawer to reach for another pair of dull, uncomfortable and uninteresting boxer briefs, she could remember the distinct feel of _those_ , with their soft and shiny texture, and the pleasant design, brightly colored polka dots that made her feel better.

And when Wally had a moment of crying - crying over a damn pair of underwear - she had to realize that maybe, just maybe, she was getting a bit invested in all of this and maybe, just maybe, it was becoming a problem.

But she still couldn’t tell anyone. Not yet.

-

When Wally’s mother found out, it was entirely by accident. And she didn’t find out at all about Wally’s personal struggle, or anything like that; she found out about a noticeable side effect.

Wally was sick again; vomiting again, this time almost nonstop.

It was a miracle she’d made it to the bathroom at all.

“What’s going on in there?” her concerned teacher had asked, coming up to ask the curious crowd of fellow classmates that had gathered around the stall.

“He’s getting sick,” one of the boys says. “He won’t stop throwing up.”

And when the teacher raised her voice to talk to Wally, the only thing she could manage, throat sore and burning, was an exhausted, “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Wallace?” the teacher asked; but of course, there was no answer.

_Wallace._

And because she was in so much pain, she just started to cry. She was sobbing to herself, in between dry heaving and choking up what little was left in her stomach.

This. This was a _rough_ day. This was one of those bad mornings that became a bad afternoon and was ending as a bad day.

And when her mother showed up to take her home, Wally was crying through the entire drive home.

Humiliation didn’t even begin to cover it. Shame came close. Disappointment. Frustration. And during that entire drive home, she couldn’t find a word to answer her mother’s question of what _in the world_ was the matter.

She hated herself. That was an answer that no words could explain.

So when her mother sent her to a counselor, roughly a week later…

She was the first person that Wally told. And she made the decision to call her mother directly, to tell her that Wally needed help from a specialist.

She didn’t realize that her mother didn’t know.

Her mother hit the roof.

Initially.

After long spells of silence, some awkwardness around her father—who was largely kept out of the loop—and a few more crying episodes, her mother promised to take Wally to a specialist to _sort this out_ , if she agreed to _calm down_ and get back to normal.

Wally was never going to be normal; but she nodded anyway.

“I can’t deal with you like this,” the woman said.

And even as Wally nodded once more, she started crying again.

-

“You’re a beautiful girl, Wally,” was the first compliment she’d heard in a long time.

Wally’s smiling at the woman, her new counselor. She’s a middle-aged woman with a kind face and good intentions, even if she has the annoying habit of continuously readjusting her glasses. It’s almost like the idle gesture helps her think.

“You don’t have to lie,” Wally remarks calmly.

“I’m not,” the woman smiles. “You’re very beautiful.” There she goes with the glasses again, “And I’m going to do all I can to help you believe that.”

Wally certainly didn’t believe it. But the way that woman said it, made her want to try.

-

_When you feel depressed about yourself, just remember, you are a beautiful girl._

That’s what she said.

So when Wally was punched in the face, grabbed by the shoulders and pushed to the ground, shivering and shaking from the impact, breathing heavily as her vision blurred, she was trying to think, _I am a-_

And she’s being hit again; this time, even harder. So hard, that she feels something in her face crack.

She’s crying out in pain, struggling to breathe. _–a beautiful-_

Another hit, and the image is fading; everything she sees is fading, and her eyes are so heavy-

_A beautiful girl._

-

“What the hell?” is the first thing she hears, followed promptly by a loud slam, a heavy impact against the wall, so hard it shakes the frame. “I’ll kill him.”

She’s coming back into consciousness, trying to get her eyes to line up straight, as she lifts her head; she has to stop from the sudden spark of pain, settling back down again.

She hears the shuffling of feet, fast approaching, heavy, urgent footsteps.

And as the drowsiness comes back, that ominous statement again.

“ **I’ll kill him.** ”

-

Wally doesn’t like to talk about it. The swelling in her face has finally gone down, and she’s looking more like her normal self. Which is actually a tad disappointing, because when her face was swollen, it looked more round; the welts and bruises had helped to hide her strong jawline.

But there it is again. Same as ever.

Her team knows that someone attacked her. They know that someone hit her, repeatedly.

She knows her violent classmate had later ended up in the hospital. But she doesn’t know why. She’s too scared to know how it happened.

She’s never identified that voice. She doesn’t know who found her body, as she lay half-unconscious in the schoolyard. She assumed it was Dick, but the voice was too old. And she’d assume it was her father, but he’d never care about her. Not enough to be that angry.

That kind of rage; she couldn’t imagine who else would be that furious.

At first, she’d assumed the _him_ the voice spoke of was her. That he would kill her. Because while she was being hit, it seemed that Fate would be unkind enough to send a second attacker her way. Except that after she passed out, she woke up again in a hospital bed, with her parents—showing genuine concern for once—at her bedside.

So somewhere out there, a mysterious _someone_ exists, that specifically targeted her attacker.

When she returns to school, and is asked repeatedly about what happened, a classmate happens to mention that the _other kid_ was in the hospital. He says that he’d probably be in there for several weeks. “It was bad,” he says. “Real bad.”

In a way, it’s unsettling.

That mysterious, pissed-off _someone_ is nobody in her Justice team, because everyone there seems genuinely alarmed to see her injuries. Even Megan, who has never showed strong interest in her before, is quick to try and apply healing ointment to her face, to help the bruises go away a little bit faster.

And when she comments that she can’t walk well because of the wrap around her ankle, and that she can’t reach many things because her shoulder is still too swollen, Dick is prompt to fetch things, to move things, and to help her move whenever she needs to get somewhere, even if it’s just a matter of relocating across the room.

But she doesn’t like the way they talk about her.

“Wally’s a strong guy, too,” from Artemis.

“Wally’s a speedster, couldn’t he just run away?” Dick asks.

“I am surprised this even happened,” from Kaldur.

“Couldn’t he hit back?” from Conner.

Wally wishes she were half as powerful as they believe she is. But in truth…

She was feeling like shit, and she lost her willpower. She lost her will to strike back. It felt good to be hit, the first time; she just hadn’t banked on her attacker doing it again, and _again_. Besides, she instigated it; she knew that. She said, to his face, “You’re just fucking shit. You’re a piece of shit.”

Because he’d gone through _her_ things. He’d looked into her backpack when she took a bathroom break, and she came back to find him idly toying with the spare lipstick she had tucked in there.

She hadn’t even been able to use it yet. It wasn’t even open.

But he still called her a fag. He said that, as soon as class let out, he would rape her. He said that he’d show her what being a woman really felt like.

He didn’t go that far in practice. Once he started to hit her, he was satisfied.

“Do you feel pretty now,” he’d snarled at her.

But this time, she didn’t cry. She spit in his face, and he hit her again, and again.

And again.

_I’m a beautiful girl-_

But Wally didn’t really believe that anyway.

The truth felt more like…

_I’m a queer that likes to cross-dress._

But now that the bruises were gone, Wally finally opened that lipstick, breaking the seal.

_I’m a fag that likes to pretend I’m not a boy-_

Turns the stick in a few circles, exposing the soft red stick, as sh- no, _he_ presses it to his lips, slowly.

_I’m better at being a boy anyway, so-_

He applies it along his lips, first the bottom, then the top.

_I might as well just be one. And I will hit back._

He presses his lips together, blending the color. And stares at himself in the mirror.

_No one will ever hurt me again._

But in that moment, Wally sees his lips, a soft red, and how smooth they seem now. He’s looking at his eyes, and he starts to wonder what would happen if he thinned his eyebrows. He starts to wonder what would happen if he borrowed some of Megan’s eyeliner. Because his face isn’t as hard-edged as he thought. His eyes are round and expressive. His lips are soft when they want to be. And even his freckles work to soften his bone structure. He reaches a hand up, and brushes back his hair, getting the bangs out of his face, a change that makes his expression seem kinder, his overall look more feminine. He smiles at himself, staring into the mirror with a kind of awe.

_I am a beautiful girl._

Wally sees her reflection, and starts to laugh a little.

_I am very beautiful-_

She hears a door open, and instantly glances sideways to check for the disturbance. And in the doorway, Dick is standing there, calm at first with an idle grin on his face, and then some alarm as his eyes grow wide.

And Wally stares back at him, fresh lipstick applied, her fingers curling around one of Megan’s bottles of liquid eyeliner.

For a moment, Dick stares right back.

He starts, “Wally-”

“I, uh-” Wally shrugs to herself-

And Dick starts to laugh.

Dick _laughs_.

It takes all of Wally’s strength to not show any of her offense. _That’s right._ Dick thinks this is a joke. Dick thinks Wally is being funny again. Dick thinks-

Wally can’t find the power to feign a smile. Her lips start to curl up accordingly, but the minute that she glances back at the mirror and remembers the lipstick, she starts to feel so, so ridiculous, and so ashamed-

And as she stares into the mirror, tears start to form behind her eyes.

“Wally,” Dick’s voice again; concern, this time.

Wally just closes her eyes firmly, and stands up. Time to leave.

“Wally?” Dick’s calling; but by the time he finishes the sound, Wally’s gone.

-

Wally almost drowns herself in the bathroom sink. Thank God her house is empty, because this is the _last_ thing she wants to explain to anyone.

But she needs someone. She needs someone, or she’s going to either drown herself right now, or spend the entire night crying until her voice is gone. Someone. Anyone.

She can’t call Dick; that would be foolish. She just ran away; how is she going to face him again, any time soon… and she can’t call any of the others, because they’re hanging out back there at the mountain.

God; she was just messing around. She was going to wash this off; but then Dick had to come in and-

She doesn’t think much about it, before she makes the decision to ask Roy. The truth is, Roy is her only genuine friend, outside the group. And she won’t tell him a damn word, but Roy is kind enough to let her crash there without _demanding_ the story. It might bother him a little, but he won’t force her. He’s a good man; an even better friend.

 _Urgh_. The problem with Roy is that every time she sees him, she wants to sleep with him… But that would have to wait. Forever.

She sends him a text, “Can I come over?” Clicks send.

She’s washing the lipstick off her lips, scrubbing them with a wet napkin until they start to ache. They’re still faintly pink, but the obvious, offending wax texture is completely gone. Now they just look like she agitated them, which is.. okay.

Her phone beeps; the message reads, “Sure.”

Good old Roy.

Roy is such a good man.

-

She apparently catches Roy by surprise, as his hair is still wet, like he just got out of the shower.

When she notices, that observation _does_ something to her. Something she’d sooner die than admit to him, as she does what she can to not stare too obviously. So instead she casually says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Roy answers back. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she lies. “Just thought I’d come by.”

“You’re lying.” Ouch. Roy is a good man, but he’s also very perceptive. He tears off a paper towel from the kitchen counter, and dabs it at his hair, as he calmly remarks, “You look flushed.”

“I-uh…” He was almost _too_ perceptive. “Please don’t ask.”

“What,” Roy gives her a blank stare, like she’d already given too much away. _Oh God_ , he was so beautiful; it was so rare that she got to see him without his mask…

But she’s gotta keep it together. “I just… I’m not feeling well, so. I was wondering if I can camp here for a while.”

“Another fight with Robin,” Roy guesses.

“What…”

“Happens often,” Roy says with a small shrug, as he turns on the television. “I’m gonna change.”

“But you’re wearing clothes already?” Wally frowns a little.

“Yeah, but this is shit,” Roy points to himself; and it’s true, his shirt doesn’t match the pants, his pants are full of holes and torn stitching. “Just threw this on.”

“Oh.” And Wally is disappointed, because that means there was a small _flicker_ of hope that Roy _maybe_ considered going shirtless when Wally arrived. Oh well. “See you soon then,” with a half-wave.

Roy gives a slight nod and leaves the room.

As soon as he leaves, Wally curls up on the couch, hugging her knees. What is she even doing here… Staring at the tv blankly, watching a cheesy commercial about a woman washing windows. A woman that, effortlessly, is more feminine and _pretty_ than she will ever be.

It hurts. It hurts everywhere.

When Roy comes back into the room, she’s crying. But she didn’t mean to. She was watching the tv in silence, and before she realized it, the tears were falling. So tears are falling and she wipes at her face with a clumsy hand; God, even her _hands_ aren’t feminine-

_Maybe I should just be a boy._

But when she thinks that, even as a possibility, she sobs.

Roy’s got a hand on her shoulder, as he sits on the couch beside her, “What’s wrong.”

But Wally can’t answer; she just shakes her head. _He_ shakes _his_ …

 _Oh God_ those pronouns are all wrong.

She can’t do it. She can’t do this.

She cries into her knees, pulling them closer to her body as she tries to hide her face as she continues to cry. Roy’s hand still on her shoulder, but he doesn’t move it. He just keeps it there, still and solemn, like he’s not sure what to do.

Wally wouldn’t know what to do, either.

He tries a different approach, “Can I call Robin, and ask him what’s wrong?”

Wally nods; then has a sudden, sharp spark of terror and shakes her head quickly.

“Okay,” Roy accepts, a faint sigh in his voice. “Wally,” he speaks calm and slow, “Are you sure you can’t tell me?”

Wally manages, in a broken sob, “I want to.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Roy nods; but he doesn’t pressure her. He doesn’t push her into anything. He calmly waits. His hand starts to move, and he rubs her shoulder slowly, as she calms herself down.

“But I don’tthinkIcan,” the words stumble out.

“Then let me ask Robin,” Roy tries again. “Please. If you want me to know-”

“Butyou’llhateit.”

Roy stops; he tilts his head. “What?”

A quiet murmur, “You’ll hate me.”

“Why would I-”

“You’ll-”

But she stops, when she looks up and sees Roy’s face. He’s frowning at her, but that’s not it. He looks… concerned. Honest-to-God concerned. There’s a slow look of pain developing in his face, like he’s just been told something devastating. But his jaw is firm and his mouth is tense when he speaks, “I won’t.”

And maybe it's all because he looks like _that_ , but she believes him. She hangs her head, “Ask Robin.”

In silence, he maneuvers around and pulls out his cell. He pauses, as if thinking on what to say; and within minutes, Wally can hear the musical dialing as he’s punching keys. But he’s not calling; she soon realizes he’s texting. He hits a final button…

And waits. He stares at his phone like it’s on fire, like he’ll receive an instant response. Wally notices how tense he is, and it makes even her feel nervous.

The phone sings; Wally’s heart stops temporarily.

And she’s slowly breathing again, watching Roy carefully as he reads the message. It’s lengthy; he has to scroll down. And with a slow inward sigh, his lips sealed shut, he frowns slightly before he glances at Wally, and casually asks, “He wants to know if he can come over.”

Wally shakes her head, without hesitation. _That would be the worst-_

“Okay,” Roy acknowledges, and goes back to typing into the phone. He clicks a button, and sets the phone down onto the nearby coffee table.

He sits in silence for a moment, as he clasps his hands together, and stares at the phone, until the screen fades to black. And when he sighs again, his shoulders rise and fall, and he rolls his head around slowly, before he finally looks back up, staring into the silent television screen, animated lights and moving pictures, and says, “So what does it mean.”

“What?” Wally’s voice is almost gone.

“What’s going on, Wally.”

“Didn’t he tell you..?”

“Just what happened.” Roy pauses, “Not why.”

“Oh,” Wally sighs.

“Because he doesn’t _know_ , Wally.”

“Iknow.”

“He has no idea.”

“Iknow,” she closes her eyes for a moment.

Roy falls silent again.

Wally’s sure he’s just rethinking his strategy. He’s getting no answers out of her, and she knows that. She’s being completely useless right now. But she just can’t think clearly enough to make it work. She just can’t _speak_ well enough.

Roy runs a hand through his hair, and takes a deep sigh. As soon as he exhales, he asks in a calm voice, “Are you a crossdresser.”

“What?” Wally laughs a little; but it feels so forced, that even Roy looks at her with some alarm. “N-no,” she confirms. “I’m not.”

Roy seems perplexed, but his eyes relax back to their usual neutral state, his eyelids falling heavy.

“Notalways,” she manages.

He’s staring at her again. But he’s not annoyed, or surprised this time. He’s _waiting_. He’s being patient.

So Wally does what she can. “I mean-I…” she finally relaxes her posture, allowing her legs to unfold themselves, as her feet fall to the floor, and she sits back into the couch, “I like… stuff like that.”

Roy starts to frown again.

“I like... girl things,” her voice is small and faint.

“Like makeup,” Roy gently suggests.

“Yeah, and panties and bras and-”

 _Oh._ That was _way_ too much. She said too much now.

But Roy’s not reacting the way he should be. His eyes are wandering away, like he’s thinking it over. He’s thinking about it seriously.

And when he speaks, he’s remarkably calm, “Do you like dressing like a girl?”

“I…” Wally doesn’t know how to answer. She wanted to be honest to Roy, but he was the _last_ person she wanted to view her as a freak-

“Or do you like _feeling_ like one,” Roy’s eyes are glued to the floor, as his voice is unusually cold. But he’s not being mean. He sounds... concerned again. Concerned, like this issue might be larger than he initially believed.

_It is._

“Y-yes,” Wally responds.

“Which one,” Roy asks.

“The second.”

Another silence between them. Wally can feel the air tensing up between them; it’s getting harder to breathe. This was a mistake. _This is a mistake._ Now he would never see her in the same way again- She’s ruined it-

But she goes for broke. Nothing left to lose, now. “I-I… think I am a girl.”

“You think,” Roy asks, his voice unusually delicate, its pitch lightening somewhat.

“I think… I _feel_ like one. I am one, inside my head.”

Roy stays silent; he’s just listening. Listening…

Roy is a good man. _He’ll hear me out, even if he hates it._

“I’ve been seeing a counselor. But I can’t stop doing it yet.”

“Are you on medication,” Roy’s avoiding eye contact, but his voice still has that abnormally soft, gentle tone. Almost like…

“N-no.” Wally pauses. “What would I take?”

“Hormones,” Roy’s response is swift. His voice hasn’t yet returned to normal. When he continues to speak, he sounds like someone else entirely, his voice softer and lighter than Wally’s ever known it to be, “when you mentioned a counselor, I thought that’s what you meant.”

“No. But she’s mentioned that for future, like… if I ever got stuck like this.”

“Stuck?” a near-whisper.

“You know… stuck feeling like this.”

“Have you always?”

Wally pauses. Thinks it over. “I don’t know.”

Roy looks at her curiously.

“When I was a kid, I liked bright colors. I had a few Barbies I stole, things like that. But I don’t think that’s...”

“Did you associate yourself with boys, or girls?”

“…Girls, mostly.”

“Did you steal the Barbies because you thought they were attractive, or because you wanted to be like them?”

She had to think about that one. She hadn’t ever thought of it that way before; especially not as a gender-confused child. So she has to be honest; “I’m not sure…”

Roy frowns; a slow blink. Wally would nearly kill to know what he was thinking. And when Roy talks, his voice is still faint, almost so melodic that she could swear it didn’t belong to him, “Has anyone ever called you a girl?”

“Not really,” Wally shrugs. “I’m clumsy and masculine, so…”

“If I called you a girl-”

Wally pauses.

“Would you like it?” in that near-whispered tone, his voice is so, so beautiful. And Wally is both mystified and fascinated.

“Yes.” That’s the one thing she is certain of. “Yes.”

“Do you like being called Wallace-”

“I hate it,” another easy truth.

“Do you ever wish you had breasts-”

“All the _time_ ,” Wally almost laughs. This is finally getting more straight-forward. She likes this change of pace.

“Do you hate your penis.”

A moment of silence; Wally bites her lip absent-mindedly. Spoke too soon. “I…”

“Do you… honestly?” Roy stares at her intently, his eyes heavy, his lips at pause, his jaw tense. Wally’s looking back, thinking that _Swear to God, Roy is the most beautiful thing_ and it’s almost distracting her from the immediate question.

“I can’t stand it.”

Roy frowns, closing his eyes for a moment as he thinks that over. He bows his head, almost as if that answer pains him.

 _I’m the one that should be bothered by this._ “I can’t even touch it,” Wally comments, “I hate seeing it. I hate feeling it there-”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this.”

“What…”

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Roy’s staring at her with open, intent eyes that are dark and defined by an emotion Wally can’t completely understand. Something depressing and… there’s that concern again. The familiar worry that Roy should not have.

_Why do you even care?_

“I thought it’d be weird,” Wally admits, “Same reason why I pretend to like girls-”

 _Oops_. Entirely too much information again.

“Yeah,” Roy shrugs, finally relaxing his posture, “I saw through that one.”

“Aw, man,” Wally chuckles a little.

“ _Well_ ,” and Roy’s voice is so light and melodic, and so smooth; that sigh sounds just like a- Like a- Roy’s rolling his eyes a little, “This is _important_ , Wally.” His voice sounds just like a-

 _No._ No way.

“I didn’t think you’d care-” Wally tries, irritated as she realizes that right now, _her_ voice is nowhere near as smooth and gorgeous as Roy’s- And Roy normally sounds so _masculine_ and rough and-

Some of that harshness comes back, his pitch dropping back to where it normally was, “Of course I care.” The melody was done. Now Roy was all man again; firm and tense and heavy. “I know what happened, Wally.”

_What-_

“I heard what that fucker said to you.”

_Holy shit-_

“And this whole goddamn time I’ve been wondering _why_.”

Roy. It was _Roy_.

Roy, who said those awful words. Roy, who sent him to a hospital. Roy-

_I’ll kill him._

But why-

“Why?” Wally asks.

“Why what,” he growls.

“Why were you there…”

“Because I care about you, Wally. I want you to be okay.” The way he says it; so calm… so collected, like he’s realized it before. Like it’s a complete, grounded fact. “And Dick said you’d been acting strange, so I was _going_ to ask you.”

“So you were at my school…”

“Fortunately.”

“I…” her shoulders fall; her lips curve into a somber smile, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Why did you let him do that, Wally.”

“What do you mean?” she feigns ignorance, tilting her head back.

“You’re stronger than that.”

“Why does everyone believe that…”

“Because it’s true. So why.”

Wally sighs. It was too late to lie, now. They were too far into the subject. They were digging too deep. If she lied now, she may never find her way out. “I didn’t want to fight anymore. I’m so tired of…” she trails off, losing the idea of what she wanted to say. “I’m so tired.”

“Let me help you.”

“What?”

“I want to help you. Let me.”

“What can you do..” in her own depressed, cynical way, Wally wants to laugh. Roy may be capable of many things, but curing her problem was completely impossible. It was complete-

Roy stands up suddenly, and in a hushed murmur, “Let me show you something.”

“What-” but before Wally can ask, Roy’s reaching beneath his shirt. _Oh God._ This will be awkward. This will be so awkward-

But when Roy’s shirt peels up, and he slides it off, Wally’s not sure what she’s looking at. Because that is _not_ the bare chest she was expecting.

Roy is wearing what appears to be a vest; coarsely sewn, strapped tight around his waist. And he’s sighing from stress, as he turns away from Wally, reaching down to fidget with one of the straps, peeling back the Velcro as Wally stares in some sort of bewildered awe.

She hears the Velcro come undone, and she notices that Roy pauses in motion. Even though all she can see is his back, she sees the fabric coming loose, and she’s _burning_ with curiosity to know what’s on the other side.

And when Roy turns around, she loses the ability to speak. It’s completely gone.

Because as Roy holds that vest open, Wally quickly realizes what she’s looking at.

A body—no, a _chest_ that is distinctly not the one she imagined.

“Y-you have…” she starts.

“Yeah,” in a half-laugh. “I do.” Roy gazes down at himself, following Wally’s stare to the apparent objects only slightly obscured from view, as he holds the vest open in a cautious state; he doesn’t want to be indecent, but-

“Can I see them,” the words slip out before Wally realizes what she said. “OhGodnowait,” she tries to backtrack, in a sudden state of panic, “I-I mean-”

“You’re curious.”

“Yes,” a shameful nod. It’s not like it really matters, but… This is just-

And when Roy comes closer, he pauses for a moment, before he relaxes his posture, and slides the vest off. It falls to the floor, but Wally doesn’t even notice. She’s too busy taking in the view of the _incredible_ sight in front of her. Incredible in that it’s impossible. Incredible in that it’s still somehow so beautiful, so-

She never thought she’d be attracted to a body like this. But it’s… It’s perfect.

Despite Roy’s muscular arms, his body is sculpted in a much more graceful way. A slender waist. Hips that protrude with a noticeable curve above the edge of his jeans. A smooth stomach with the suggestion of tight muscle. And _breasts_ , breasts that are the most perfect ones Wally has ever seen-

She can’t help it; when she reaches out and touches one of them, Roy laughs.

“I’msosorry,” Wally is _sure_ she’s blushing. But she can’t stop doing this. She’s pressing her fingers in slowly, gently, to grasp hold of these soft, pillowy things-

“You think you hate being Wallace,” Roy sarcastically comments.

“Yeah,” Wally laughs a little, as she continues to fondle Roy inappropriately; but she’s not trying to be sexual. She’s just so.. so captivated. She’s stunned.

“I had to be a _Melissa_.” Roy comments slyly. “But I guess that’d work better for you…”

“Ha,” Wally laughs again, but very quietly. Both hands over Roy’s breasts now, as her fingers accidentally graze over his nipples-

And Roy tenses up, inhaling sharply.

“I’msorry-”

“Wally,” he grins a little, as he murmurs, “You’re _arousing_ me.”

“Shit I’m sorry-” and she finally pulls her hands back.

Roy rolls his eyes a little, and he bends down, to fetch his vest off the floor. Wally’s still staring at him with some amazement, her eyes still glossed over and unfocused.

“How did you do that?” She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t-

“Hormones,” Roy says calmly, as he slides the vest back on, and starts to close it up, starting from the bottom. “And a lot of work.”

Wally happens to notice just how full Roy’s cleavage looks for a moment, before he reaches a hand in, to smooth everything out. Wally’s feeling flushed, because she likes _boys_ , and this body is very _female_ , and- And Roy is- But Roy is-

Roy is so _male_ , and-

The last strap in place, as Roy continues, “It’s not easy. But I can help you.”

Wally realizes what Roy is saying, before he says it.

“I understand.”

And for the first time in a long while, Wally feels…

Hope. Fragile at first, then gradually it becomes stronger, as Roy sits down beside her, and takes hold of her hand.

“I get it, Wally.”

-

“I-I don’t know about this,” Wally’s saying.

“Hold still,” Roy reassures her.

“But why this color? I wanted the darker one-”

“No, this one. Start subtle, Wally. Let’s start subtle, and get everybody used to it.”

“Okay-”

“Now hold still.”

Roy’s got a hand on her face; _Wow_ even his _hands_ are beautiful. Strong for a woman, but elegant and- But Roy is not a _woman_. Roy is a man, and this is so damn confusing-

Wally feels the lipstick being applied to her lips, in a much more careful, slow way than when she had clumsily done so earlier. In the mirror behind them, Wally’s staring at the sight of Roy’s hand, noticing how carefully he moves, how precisely he holds the lipstick, and how perfectly he traces the edge of her lips.

Maybe there is some truth to this. Roy knows what he’s doing.

And when he puts the cap back on, Roy says, “Okay, now press em together,” as he demonstrates how it’d be done.

“That much?” Wally asks curiously, mentally wanting to giggle at how funny Roy looked for a moment.

Roy explains, “You want it to blend in, don’t you.”

“Mm,” as Wally nods and does so, to the best of her ability.

Roy laughs a little, “You can stop now.”

“Oh. Right.”

Roy’s pulling out a slender metal device, pliers of some sort, as he presses his fingers against their tips to see how sharp they are. “Okay. Hold still again.”

“What is that for-”

“Eyebrows.”

_Oh, no._

“No wait-”

“Come on-”

“No.” Wally pauses. “Not yet.”

“Why not.”

“Because I can’t just.. _wash_ that off. That’ll stay."

Roy thinks that over, and nods. “Okay. Let me just clean them up, then.”

“Just a _little_.”

“Just a little.”

“Okay-”

Roy rushes in and plucks the first hair; Wally’s immediate whine, “Owww.”

Roy laughs.

-

“I _thought_ you knew how to shave,” Roy observes, as he traces a hand down Wally’s left leg, as she flinches beneath his touch.

“I do,” she insists. “I’m just not _good_ at it.”

Roy shakes his head, and roams over to the counter, where he picks up a bottle of lotion. He’s pouring some of it into his hands, as Wally attempts to make idle conversation.

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

“No,” Roy says calmly, as he rubs his hands together. “But it’s going to help.” He places his hands on top of Wally’s outstretched legs, as he starts to run them down, from her upper thighs towards her feet. She shivers from his touch, and hopes he doesn’t notice; he calmly continues speaking, “You have to start somewhere.”

Wally looks down at her legs, and is genuinely surprised at the sight of them. Smooth and shiny from the wet lotion, they almost look… They look _nice_. She’d never realized how toned they were, how slender and-

“You like them,” Roy comments quietly.

“Yeah,” Wally smiles a little.

“Good.”

“Yeah…” Wally lets the smile diminish from her face, although she remains in that peaceful, happy mood. She continues to admire her legs, turning them slightly, bending them to notice that _hey_ , they really weren’t that bad at all.

When she looks up at Roy, he’s just… calmly staring at her.

“What?” she asks hesitantly.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I-uh…” she can feel her face start to blush, almost instantly, “not really.”

Roy grins at her, “You shouldn’t lie like that.”

-

When he buttons her shirt for her, she’s feeling warm and radiant; overheating and tense and nervous all at once. He runs his hands down her shoulders, gently tracing down her arms as he leans in, just a little, breathing in gently as if he’s trying to capture the moment somehow. He’s still and moving slow, as if he’s trying to preserve it.

_But why…_

“Why are you doing this?” Wally asks.

“Because I care about you, Wally.”

And this time, she starts to understand what that phrase means, when Roy says it.

When Roy looks at her cautiously, and starts to lean in, she doesn’t move back; she moves forward. And when he presses his lips against hers, she just wants to _die_ because up close he is so crazy beautiful and this man is _incredible_ and this is _unbelievable_ and-

She places a hand to the back of his neck, as they start to pry each other’s mouths open, tongues meeting for the first time. And _oh my God_ , she’s kissing Roy, _I am kissing Roy_ , as they continue to taste each other, as Roy’s strong hands are running up her waist, and sliding across the soft fabric of her shirt-

A faint sigh from his mouth, when they part.

_Roy-_

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

_Wait._

“I got carried away,” he bows his head, and gets back to work on the buttons.

“I like you.”

“I just-” he pauses.

When he looks at Wally cautiously, she’s giving him a wide-eyed stare, with a small smile on her face. It’s mainly to hide her nervousness, but if there was ever a time to try and flirt honestly, _genuinely_ , this was fucking _it_.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that again,” there it was; more of that familiar bravado. With Roy, it’s so easy…

But Roy’s frowning down at her, as if he’s confused.

“Honest.”

But when Roy doesn’t respond, Wally starts to become nervous. _Please._

_Say something._

Roy shakes his head a little, “You sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Wally’s frowning back at him.

“Because I’m a…” he pauses, “ _girl._ ”

“No you’re not, stupid.” The reply comes out so effortlessly, even Wally is surprised at herself.

“You like _boys_ ,” Roy reiterates. “With _male_ parts…”

“I like _your_ parts,” Wally remarks.

Roy smirks at that.

“I like your _everything_.”

And Roy gives her a hesitant look.

“I mean…” she says hesitantly, “You like _girls_ , right?”

Roy grins a little, “Yeah-”

“Then why would you like me?”

“Wally, you’re a-”

“Roy, I’ve only looked almost like one for a few minutes. So how could you like me?”

Roy sighs, and averts his eyes nervously, “I… kinda knew…”

“How-”

“Because I _understand_. I know the signs.”

“There were signs…”

“The body hate. The false bravado. The things that boy said to you-”

“Can we forget about him, please.”

“I don’t know.”

“Wha-.. Really?”

“I don’t know.”

Wally places her hands on Roy’s face, a move that startles him, as he opens his eyes wide and stares at her. But he relaxes into her touch, as she reassures him gently, “Did it bother you _that_ much?”

Roy murmurs, “I’ve never been so angry.”

Wally pauses; “Did you kill him,” with a grin that she hopes is sarcastic.

“Almost.”

_Oh God._

“I was tempted.”

“But did you even know back then?”

“Know what,” as he kisses the nearest hand, as it trails past his mouth.

Wally shivers; but keeps her composure. “You didn’t even know what I was, so why would you… care like that.”

“Because I care about you,” Roy reiterates. “You’re my friend.” He murmurs, a low, somber murmur, “And no one can hurt you.”

“Why are you so possessive-” because the idea of Roy being in _love_ with her was too difficult to believe.

Or was it.

“Even when I thought you were a boy, I…” he closes his eyes for a moment, “I _cared_ , Wally. Even if I wasn’t supposed to.”

_Roy…_

“You’re the first _boy_ I ever fell for.” He grins a little, mostly to himself, “It’s like I already knew, before I did.”

“Knew what,” she can barely speak.

“I knew you were my girl.”

-

When Roy was a child, his mother would sew him hand-made dresses.

“I don’t like these,” was always his complaint. “Why can’t I wear what all the boys can-”

“Because they’re boys, honey. Now hold still while I button this up.”

When Roy was old enough to realize that he hated having breasts, and that every girl he slept with appreciated his body _far_ more than he did, he started to wonder what was wrong with him.

It wasn’t an answer he found overnight. It wasn’t even an answer he found in a matter of days.

It took years. Years of suffering. Years of sorrow. Years of hating himself, waking up and being appalled every time he would see his naked body. So slender and weak and frail. So soft and delicate, he was like a fucking doll and he hated that. He hated everything about it. And he hated his voice every time he’d speak, and every _single_ time he was called “ma’am” or “miss” or “dear”. He hated when men would open doors for him; he hated when girls would ask him for advice, like he fucking knew. “I’m not one of you.” That’s what he wanted to say.

_I’m not like you._

I’m not beautiful and I’m not pretty and I’m not delicate and I’m not sweet and I’m not girly and-

It took years. Years of progress. He was lucky; he’d noticed it early. His parents had supported him, largely because they wanted to cure his depression. “Whatever it takes,” his mother had said.

But she had been stunned when he first came home, arms twice the size they were when he left, chest bound flat, hair cut off and face more broad and sharp than it had ever been. And when he spoke with a deeper voice than ever before, she started to cry, even as she warmly welcomed him back home.

She didn’t say _why_ , but he knew. He knew.

But still she gave him a hug, and a kiss on the face, like he was the same daughter she’d seen just the year before.

But the year after that…

She didn’t cry anymore.

This time, she smiled. She smiled, and when she introduced him to her friend and neighbor, she warmly said, “This is my son.”

That moment is what gave him the motivation to do _this_ for Wally. Because he wanted her to feel the way he did, just then. He wanted her to feel that way _all the time_.

Because some people will love you for who you are.

“This is my son, Roy.”

-

“Remember what I said,” Roy’s cautioning her, holding her hand as he can feel her tensing up. “They love you.”

Wally sighs.

“They want what’s best for you.”

Wally nods.

“And all we have to do, is to convince them that _this_ is it.”

Wally nods, but she’s not looking very confident.

“If we can do that, the battle’s over. You got that?”

“Yes.”

“But Wally...”

“What,” she looks at him with some anxiety.

“Don’t worry. You’re beautiful.”

-

The Young Justice crew is surprised enough to see Roy. He’s a rare enough appearance as it is. But they’re _stunned_ when they see Wally.

“Wally,” Dick’s mouth drops open.

In fact, the only one that’s not completely floored is Megan. Appearing to not notice what the big deal is, she giggles, “You look pretty!”

“What is this about?” Artemis asks, with some hesitation in her voice.

Wisely, Roy doesn’t say anything to them; he leans towards Wally and whispers in her ear, “Beautiful girl.”

Conner hears that, but says nothing; instead, he looks even more perplexed. Between Megan’s reaction and the awkward silence from the others, he’s not entirely sure what’s going on.

Dick is fast to clear it up; or to _try_ , anyway.

“Wally, why do you.. look like that?”

“Does it look okay?” Wally asks.

Dick replies sarcastically, “Sure, I _guess_.”

When Wally smiles back at him, Dick is more perplexed than ever. “But isn’t this… is this a joke?”

Wally bites her lip. But then she remembers she’s wearing lipstick, and she worries about it coming off, so she quickly stops and just licks her lips one time before falling still. She looks at Roy as if for support, and when he just gives her a slow nod, she looks back at Dick and says, “I have to tell you something. Guys… I think I’m a-”

She stops. _Wrong._ No, not _think_ …

“I’m a girl.”

“Really?” Artemis’ eyes grow wide.

“I don’t believe he means physically,” Kaldur replies somberly.

“O- _oh_ , cause I was gonna say,” she’s smirking, before she seems to suddenly realize what that means. “Wait…”

“I know I look like a boy,” even as she ignores Roy’s immediate frown, “but I’m a girl.” She bows her head, “And even if it’s hard, Ihopeyoucanseemeasone.”

Silence. It concerns her.

When she looks back up at her friends, they’re looking at her oddly; Dick especially.

The kid frowns at her, with a tilt of his head, “But you… _look_ like a girl, Wally.”

“Really,” Wally’s eyes grow wide.

“I… think that’s why we’re confused.”

“Yeah,” Artemis pitches in, “You’re normally so boyish, that we just kinda thought…”

Wally’s mouth opens, but the words aren’t coming fast enough.

“I mean, seriously,” Artemis grins, “Who _did_ your makeup? That is fantastic.”

Dick’s laughing a little.

Wally shrugs, not knowing if she should risk-

“I did.”

That voice.

“I happen to know a lot.”

And Wally thought _she_ had surprised them.

Roy promptly returns the subject over, “But this is about Wally.”

Wally smiles up at him. “Thank you.”

“But wait…” Dick’s frowning, “So you’re a boy, but you’re a girl?”

“No,” Wally’s still smiling, as she turns to face him, “Just a girl.”

“No, I meant _him_ ,” as he points to Roy. “You’re a-”

“MelissaHarper,” Roy coughs.

“Holy shit,” Dick exclaims faintly.

Artemis’ eyes widen, but her response is calm. “Wow.”

But Megan is in her own universe, smiling to herself as she stares at them in awe.

“What a perfect couple.”

“What,” Wally is laughing a little. _We weren’t going to tell them yet,_ he channels to her.

 _Oh, I’m sorry! I hope it’s okay_ , she responds. “It’s like… You found each other.” _But I really think it’s great._

“Yeah,” Wally feels a blush appearing on her face. _Thank you._

_He really loves you._

Wally stares at her, that blush getting worse as it even spreads to her nose.

Megan notices that, and giggles to herself.

_And don’t worry about them. They’ll come around._

Wally tilts her head in a silent question. _Are you sure?_

_I promise._

And after that, Megan sends a single thought to Roy.

_You see? I knew she’d accept you._

At that, Roy tries to hide his smile, but it becomes so apparent that even Wally looks at him curiously.

_Thank you._


End file.
